Love By Design

Chapter 56

The dinner party at Rowan’s is in full swing by the time August and I drop by. Though I was the one initially anxious, it’s August’s nervousness that I feel more prominently. He hides it well but I see the tell-tale signs of said anxiety as we stand by the front door of Rowan’s townhouse in Kensington.

“Well if it isn’t Little Miss Designer,” Rowan grins as he opens the door. “I honestly didn’t think you’d show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I blink as he pulls me into a hug.

“You’ve failed to make an appearance every single year.” Rowan deadpans before turning to August. “Hey man, good to see you again.”

From the entrance, I can hear the soft music of acoustic rock floating down the hallway.

“Thanks for inviting me,” August says, handing him a bottle of Romaneé-Conti pinot noir.

“You Parisians and your expensive wine,” Rowan chuckles. “Great job for dragging her out, by the way.”

“Excuse me?” I jut my lip out in mock indignance. “He’s my plus one.”

“Technically I invited him too.” Rowan looks at me before turning towards August. “You joining masterclass when it starts again next week or are you jetting off back to New York?”

“Oh, uh, yes.” He answers, distracted. “I’ll be in London for a little while longer.”

We step into Rowan’s entryway, the atmosphere warm as his flat buzzes with loud chatter and lively conversations. Despite knowing Rowan for nearly four years, I’ve been to his place a total number of three times. It’s lavishly designed with elements of Filipino culture scattered around the space.

“You’re still attending his cooking classes?” I ask.

August nods, lowering his voice just so I’m the only one who can hear.

“My girlfriend’s very particular with food,” He whispers. “It’s Michelin star or nothing.”

He winks at me as Rowan leads us down the corridor, tugging me close to him playfully.

“Snaps!”

Turning towards the voice, I see Hero approaching us.

“You made it!” He beams.

“What happened to a small get-together?” I remark, surveying the bustling room and glancing around the very busy, people-filled space.

“Word got around that I had fashion royalty in attendance,” Rowan chuckles. “I have a couple of buddies from The Scullery who want to have a chat with you, by the way. They’re interested in custom suits.”

“Tell them to get in line,” August interjects.

Rowan laughs as he turns to me. “Can I introduce them to you real quick?”

I nod, smiling as I exchange a look with August.

“Snaps, can you help in the kitchen?” Hero asks.

“Sure,” August nods before clearing his throat and turning to me. “See you.”

Walking to the living room, Rowan guides me to a group of his friends from The Scullery. They’re all chefs in the industry, naturally, and I listen attentively as they chat amongst themselves and talk animatedly about food. I find myself glancing over towards the kitchen more than a handful of times to catch a glimpse of platinum blond hair.

Once I feel like I’ve done my share of socialising, I excuse myself from the conversation and eagerly bound for the kitchen to look for August.

With expansive marble countertops, state-of-the-art appliances and high-quality stainless steel cookware, Rowan’s kitchen is most definitely fit for his reputation in the industry. It’s a wide space with multiple cooking zones, all currently filled with culinary creations and decadent desserts he prepared for his taster party.

Platters of different canapés and hors d’oeuvres accompany his main menu as well as a huge charcuterie board with mini cheese platters, artisanal bread and exotic spreads. I blink at the expensive brands of fine wines and spirits, similar to the ones at The Duke Dalton next to the imported chocolates and petit fours platter.

“So much for a ‘tame taster’.” I shake my head, nibbling on a pistachio macaron.

Keeping myself entertained in the kitchen, I hover near the platters of food on the central island, piling up a selection of different canapés on the plate until I have a little mountain of food.

“This mine?”

Familiar arms wrap around my waist from behind and I turn my head to see August.

“Ah, yes she is.” He confirms, leaning down to kiss my cheek.

My heart flutters at the open display of affection, even more at how natural it feels to be in his arms.

“Have you tried any of the food yet?” I ask, lifting my plate.

He shakes his head before tilting it towards my plate and opening his mouth playfully.

Rolling my eyes, I bring an Oyster Rockefeller shell to his mouth. I watch as August chews experimentally before swallowing, eyebrows knotting slightly.

“Is it good?” I ask.

“Salty.” He pulls a face. “I need something sweet to wash it down.”

I reach for an eclair from the petit fours platter, offering it to August when his lips press softly on mine. A content hum escapes him as I return the kiss, my mouth lingering against his.

“Sorry,” He whispers, pulling away. “I was having withdrawals.”

I wrinkle my nose, giggling. “You taste like oyster.”

He grabs a couple of chocolate truffles before popping them in his mouth and leaning down to give me another kiss.

“Better?”

“Better.” I grin shyly.

The sound of Hero’s voice before he enters the kitchen causes August and I to awkwardly shuffle away from each other.

“There are a few people who want pictures,” Hero says.

Turning towards August, I give him an encouraging nod. I would probably have to get used to this sort of thing around him, sooner or later.

“Go ahead,” I say. “I’ll be here.”

“Not with him,” Hero shakes his head. “With you.”

I blink.

“Me?”

“You are Mahalia Hartt, fashion’s latest Design Darling, right?” Hero asks, jestful. “Yeah, I read the articles. That asshole kept telling me to click the links for traction.”

August flusters but quickly collects himself. “You’re such a little shit.”

“Anyway,” Hero continues. “They’re a fan of your work. ‘Sickeningly obsessed’— their words, not mine— with the royal suits. I think they want autographs too.”

“Are you sure?” I respond, a little perplexed.

“They said they’ve been following you since your Disney Prince collection last year.” Hero replies.

The corner of August’s mouth curls upwards, a proud sparkle in his grey eyes as he regards me. I look up at him with a small smile, feeling the warmth of his gaze.

From the corner of my eye, I can see Hero eyeing us suspiciously.

“Don’t keep your fans waiting,” August smiles at me teasingly. “I’ll be here.”

“Fireworks in five, everyone!”

Rowan’s voice drifts from the living room.

Loud, excited chatter continues as people begin shuffling into their coats and jackets. After speaking to the handful of fashion royal enthusiasts, who did in fact want a picture with me, I find myself back with August as we join others in bundling up into their woollen knits.

Reaching out into my coat pocket, I bring out the pair of sunglasses.

“Here,” I hand it to him. “For the fireworks, just in case you need it. I brought mine too.”

I placed my large, rounded sunglasses on top of my head and August chuckles, pulling me to him.

“Let’s go.”

Following the crowd, August and I make our way to Rowan’s backyard. It’s a large, manicured lawn with neatly trimmed hedges and topiaries, rockets and pyrotechnics of varying sizes scattered all over the garden, waiting to be set off for the New Year fireworks display. Around twenty or so people are already gathered in the garden, bundled up in scarves hats and gloves as August and I join them.

Walking down a paved pathway lined with elegant lanterns and flower beds, we ultimately settle for the space under a pergola with lush vines and roses.

“Cold?” August asks, a white puff of air billowing out of his mouth as he brings an arm around me.

I shake my head but I shuffle close to him nonetheless.

“Warm.”

He slips his hand into my coat pocket, intertwining our fingers as the countdown begins.

“10… 9… 8…”

A chorus of voices all join the sequence as August pulls me closer towards him. He presses his lips on my temple as the sparklers around us begin lighting up and everyone reaches the end of the countdown.

“3… 2… 1…”

Loud cheers erupt in the landscape of Rowan’s backyard, the whistling and crawling sound of flares and rockets shooting up the night sky.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

A kaleidoscope of vibrant colours erupts as the fireworks display unfolds. Fiery blossoms of red, gold and green burst into dazzling shapes of varying sizes and I look up in awe at the glittering shower of sparks that rain down from the explosion. The scent of gunpowder lingers in the air as the smoky trails eventually disappear, only to be replaced with new fireworks whittling in the sky.

I turn towards August, to find him already staring at me, his sunglasses no longer on his face but on top of his head. He regards me with a soft expression, the contours of his face illuminated by the multi-coloured spectacle. He lifts the sunglasses from my face and pushes it on top of my head.

“Happy New Year,” I say, smiling up at him.

He mirrors my smile before lifting me up by the waist.

“August!” I giggle.

He spins me around the wooden platform of the pergola as I wrap my legs around his torso.

“Happy New Year, loveheart.”

Angling my hands, I hover them over his eyes as a makeshift shield to ease his vision from the brightness of the fireworks.

“I believe you owe me a New Year’s kiss,” He smiles up at me.

Without hesitating, I tuck my hands under his jaw and I swoop down to press my lips on his. I feel him smile against the kiss, biting softly on my bottom lip. Slowly, I pull back to see a fond expression grace his face as he hums in content.

My heart swells, impossibly full of all my affections for August, and I wrap my arms around his neck before leaning down to shower his face with tender pecks.

August beams as I slowly pull away, grey eyes glittering brighter than the fireworks.

“I can’t wait to see you take over the world, Mahalia Hartt,” He says, gently. “And I get to be there with you, every step of the way.”